


Loyalty

by iwillrunforever



Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Death, Drugging, F/M, Kidnapping, Violence, hooray for unhealthy relationships!, one day I'll write something with an actually happy ending, today is not that day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 08:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21425431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillrunforever/pseuds/iwillrunforever
Summary: You love Jeremiah, more than you've ever loved anyone else. And you're dedicated to him, you've given up everything for him. And yet, it's as though you don't exist.
Relationships: Jeremiah Valeska/Reader
Kudos: 35





	Loyalty

You wake up to an empty bed. You roll over, your arm searching for Jeremiah, but all it finds are cold sheets. They don’t even seem slept in. A quick glance at the dull glow of the alarm clock tells you that it’s six in the morning. You groan, stretching before you stand. You already know where he’ll be. The floorboards creak as you venture through the abandoned theatre towards the stage. As you get closer you can hear Jeremiah talking to himself – or so you think. Just as you enter the wings, Jeremiah’s silhouette visible past the threadbare curtains, you hear him being interrupted by a woman’s voice: Ecco. You force yourself to resist the jealousy that bubbles up inside of you. Before Jeremiah… changed, his relationship with Ecco had been purely business. She was completely professional, and you knew you could trust him. Now, you’re not so sure. You can’t help but worry that Jeremiah may have come to the conclusion that Ecco is a better fit for him – and where would that leave you? Jeremiah wouldn’t just let you go, not now. You watch Ecco as she leaves, her hips swaying. From where you’re standing you can’t tell if he’s watching her. When she’s gone you approach, finding him hunched over a table covered in maps and plans. His suit jacket is slung over the back of a chair.  
“‘Miah,” You call, not wanting to surprise him. His shoulders tense automatically but relax almost immediately. He turns, a smile fixed on his face. You can’t tell if it’s genuine.  
“(Y/N).” He reaches out a hand, beckoning you over. You obey. He draws you closer to stand beside him, his arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tight against him. “You’re up early.”  
“You weren’t in bed. I got worried.” The pressure of his arm around you relaxes you.  
“You don’t need to worry about me.”  
“Yes, I do. I love you.” The words are genuine – you do love him – but they leave a sour taste in your mouth as you twist around to kiss him. His lips are soft and gentle, but you can’t feel _him _behind them. It’s as though all feeling is gone, as though he is merely responding as he knows you expect him to.  
“Did you sleep at all?”  
“A little. Ecco and I were working on something.” _“Ecco and I”. _You pull away from him and lean over the table, shivering at the loss of contact.  
“A new project?”  
“You don’t need to worry about it.” _Of course I don’t. _  
“I’ll go back to bed then. Feel free to join me.” You wince internally at the impatience in your voice, but he doesn’t even seem to notice.  
“I’ll be there in a few minutes;” His attention is already completely focused on the work in front of him, not even sparing you a glance as you walk away.

*

You’ve lain awake in bed for an hour – and still, Jeremiah has not appeared. You groan in frustration and stand up, quickly dressing and leaving the empty bedroom. The kitchen is empty as well, but that’s hardly surprising. You pull eggs and butter out of the fridge, milk as well. Scrambled eggs. Maybe toast as well if there’s bread left.

No bread. Of course there isn’t bread.

Ecco appears while you’re cooking, whistling a jaunty tune. She leans over your shoulder, defeating any attempts at ignoring her.  
“Whatcha’ making?”  
“Eggs. Do you want some?” You force yourself to be polite – there’s no point starting a fight with her. She hums, thinking about it.  
“Nah.” She pushes herself up onto the counter, her legs swinging like a child. “Are you grumpy at J?” She’s grinning, as though she already knows the answer, but you lie anyway.  
“No.” A question forces its way out of you. “Why would you think that?”  
She shrugs, the coy smile still playing on her lips.  
“Anyway, Jeremiah and I’s relationship isn’t any of your business.” You scoop the eggs onto a plate and lean against the counter, your appetite suddenly gone. You don’t mean to be defensive – it only gives her more fuel.  
“Sure,” She giggles. You put the plate down, eggs untouched, and stand up straight.  
“Tell Jeremiah I’m going out. I’ll be back later.” You leave the room before she answers. You refuse to just sit around waiting for him to have time for you. If you want fun, you’ll find it yourself.

*

Somehow you’ve ended up in a bar. You spent the day wandering Gotham, aimless, bored out of your mind, but free. Not stuck in a stuffy, dusty, ancient theatre where you had no one to talk to.  
You’ve been nursing a cosmopolitan for the past hour, but it’s almost done. You’re contemplating whether you should get another or go back home – you’re sure Jeremiah will be worried by now. But he probably won’t be. He might not have even noticed you’re gone. You push the empty glass away from you with a sigh, preparing to stand up and leave when a figure appears by your elbow.  
“This might be forward, but can I buy you a drink?” You look up to find a man standing beside you, flashing you a sparkling white smile – blonde hair, blue eyes, a perfect tan. On any other night, you would decline politely, walk away. But tonight is not any other night.  
“That depends: what’s your name?”  
“Nicholas.”  
“Yes, you can, Nicholas.”

*

Too many drinks later, your head is resting on his shoulder as you laugh together. You can’t even remember what he said, but it was hilarious.  
“Another drink?” He asks, prompting you to glance at the clock hanging above the bar. _2 in the morning. When did it get so late?  
_“I really shouldn’t.” You stand up, surprisingly stable on your feet, and hook your purse over your shoulder. “In fact, I should be going. Thank you, though. You really cheered me up.”  
He stands up as well, a kind smile on his face. “Let me walk you home then.” Panic flutters through your brain as you think of what’s waiting for you at home: a cold, empty theatre, dust and cobwebs, Jeremiah.  
“No, you don’t have to.” You reply quickly. Too quickly. He raises his hands in surrender, laughing.  
“Okay, I get it. At least let me walk you out?” He seems kind, genuine, and nothing about the night as suggested anything other than that.  
“You know what – sure.” You walk side by side down the stairs away from the bar. The night air is cool as you step outside.  
“I had a great night, (Y/N).”  
“Me too. Thank you.” You turn to smile at him but are met with his hands framing your face and his lips against yours. You instinctively step back, eyes widening in surprise, but you soon melt into the kiss. He’s not Jeremiah – nobody feels like Jeremiah, or at least like Jeremiah used to – but he’s warm, and he’s here, and he’s kissing you because he wants to, not because he feels he has to. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer. He pulls away, your lips chasing his, and he chuckles.  
“Does that mean I can see you again? Or get your number?” You smile through the haze in your mind, about to nod, when suddenly you remember who you are. You can’t do this to Jeremiah. You had promised him you would stay by his side no matter what. You shake your head, your face falling.  
“I’m sorry Nicholas, but… I have a boyfriend.” The smile disappears, replaced by a stony stare. “I didn’t mean to lead you on-”  
“I get it. See you around, (Y/N).” He goes back into the bar and you watch him until he’s gone. The bouncer gives you a look, which you roll your eyes at before you begin walking down the street. Discomfort prickles your skin. _It was just a kiss. _But still, you feel as though you betrayed him. You wrap your arms around yourself, a failed attempt at comfort. You hurry past a dark alleyway, shrouded in darkness, but as you approach the edge strong hands grab you, one around your body, trapping your arms, while the other covers your mouth and nose with a sweet-smelling cloth. _Chloroform, _runs through your mind before you fall into unconsciousness.

*

Soft pillows under your head. A heavy duvet pulled over you. Cosy, warm, comfortable. _Not right._ Someone had kidnapped you. You should be tied to a chair, or strapped down to a table, or left in some corner of a damp room. Not in bed. Not in _your _bed. As you wake up you recognise the scent, a mixture of you and Jeremiah. Confusion spins around your brain, the drugs adding to your bewilderment.  
“Good. You’re awake.” You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, and find Jeremiah sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, legs crossed.  
“Jeremiah…”  
“Save it.” He snaps. He’s angry. “I saw you with him.” Your hand immediately flies to your lips, the memory of the illicit kiss lingering.  
“It’s not what you think-”  
“Then what is it, (Y/N)?!” He stands up suddenly, and you back up against the headboard in fear. “A friendly kiss?! That was not-” He stops himself before he can fly into a rage. He takes a deep breath, trembling in anger.  
“Please, ‘Miah,” At the sound of the nickname he storms towards you, grabbing your hair and twisting it in his hand, making you yelp as he forces you to look at him, neck bent awkwardly.  
“Don’t. Call me that.” He snarls. “You don’t get to call me that.” Gone is the detached, emotionless man you had become familiar with. Despite the fear and pain coursing through your body, this was still somehow better.  
“You don’t understand-” He forces you out of the bed and against the wall, his body against yours, your noses brushing.  
“Don’t understand what?”  
“Let me explain-”  
“What is there to explain, (Y/N)? You disappear – telling Ecco you’re “going out” – and when I come to bring you home, I find you getting drunk with another man?” His hand sits against your throat – not gripping, just sitting there, as a warning. You know that a single wrong move and he will kill you. “What did I do to make you go to another? What could I have done?” His obliviousness makes anger overcome your fear and you push forward, ignoring the press of his hand on your windpipe.  
“What did you do?” You spit in his face. “You ignore me. You don’t tell me anything. You act as if I’m not there. I try, Jeremiah. I try so hard to love you – and I _do_ love you – but you make it so difficult sometimes!” Tiny cracks begin to form in his stoic expression, showing the shock and upset and pain coursing through him. “And you have no right to say anything to me about going to someone else for the smallest bit of affection!”  
“No right? How do I-?”  
You scoff, interrupting him. “Don’t think I don’t see it. You and Ecco.” He goes to speak, but you keep going. “Don’t lie, I’m not an idiot. I know she’s a better fit for you. But the least you could do is tell me the truth.” You pant for breath, your head falling back against the wall. He thinks for a moment, cold eyes examining you.  
“Ecco? You think… that I care more for Ecco than I do for you?” He sounds baffled – it’s a good act. You nod sullenly, eyes dropping from his. He pulls you close by your neck, lips brushing your cheek as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t move.” He throws you onto the bed and leaves the room. You curl up into a ball, trying to make yourself as small as possible. You both know you won’t move – you’re too obedient for that. You can hear Jeremiah shouting in the distance. A pair of footsteps approaching the room. He’s back; with Ecco. “Apologise to (Y/N). Now.” Your heart is racing. It can’t be this simple. Jeremiah wouldn’t let this go so easily.  
“Sorry, puddin’,” She murmurs dismissively, a smug smile pulling at her mouth.  
“Good.”

_BANG._

Ecco’s body falls to the ground. You’re frozen in fear, so afraid that you don’t even move when Jeremiah kneels next to you, the gun he used to kill her still in his hand. He uses it to move your head to face him, his face unreadable. “You are the most important thing in my life, (Y/N),” He growls, “You are never to doubt that again. Understand?” You nod frantically, a chaos of emotions churning inside of you. Terrified of the detached way he killed his most loyal associate. Grateful for the dedication you thought was lost. Love for the man you knew was inside. You are painfully aware of the cold metal of the gun still pressed against your cheek, of Jeremiah’s finger still on the trigger. “And if you _ever _betray my trust again: you will wish you were Ecco.”

His mouth traps yours in a bruising kiss; your heart is racing, from fear and from excitement, but you can tell one thing: Jeremiah, your Jeremiah, is back. And you could die happy.


End file.
